"Paul Kidd - Queen of the Demonweb Pits" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kidd Paul)

And then everything went wrong.

Eleven of Recca's men engaged the undead in battle, and the air rang to the sound of piercing screams.
Shambling, rotting corpses on the hillside split open as shapes inside the dead flesh exploded into the air.
The zombies burst and took shape as filth-spattered, howling monsters with dead grey skin, fangs, and
claws. Carnivorous and mad with rage, they flung themselves on the freedom fighters, fighting in a frenzy
of speed.

Wights!

Recca swiped with his sword, but his target was merely an illusionтАФa spell sent by an enemy that
mocked him. From within the enemy tents, more shapes exploded into the skyтАФabyssal bats and huge
rotting demons, skull-headed and spewing acid as they flew. A blast of fluid ploughed through Recca's
men, turning three into skeletons and scattering the others.

A laughing toadlike demon lurched up the hillside toward Recca. The huge demon was covered in
pustules and bristled with fangs. It struck sparks from the boulders with its daws. Towering over the elf,
the demon leaped and capered on the hill, bellowing in lust and glee.

As the monster drew near, three of the wights attacked Recca. He spun past one, cut, spun, cut again.
The sole surviving monster threw itself at him. Recca ran and jumped, twirling like an acrobat. He landed
behind his prey, lanced backward with his sword, and felt it strike home. He jerked his blade free,
turned, and decapitated his enemy in a single blinding stroke.

Behind him, he heard a blade striking with incredible speedтАФ once, twice, thriceтАФstrokes that hit home
with massive force. Recca saw his apprentice standing, smeared with soil and dust. Two wights lay dead
at his feet, each one almost sheared in two. Seeing the abyssal bats and wights charging into the other
men, Recca turned and lunged toward the valley with its gully and its traps.

"Retreat!" Recca bellowed. "Now!"

Recca ran. He sped as only a grass elf couldтАФthe swiftest runners of the Flanaess. Amongst thick brush
and boulders too thick for the titanic bats to penetrate, Recca ducked past traps, reached safety, and
then looked back up the hill.

His apprentice had obeyed him, running with the heavy, lumbering stride of a big man. He reached the
boulders, turned, and saw his comrades fighting not far away. There were now only five survivors, but
they were making for the gully, and the enemy had left themselves open to attack. The apprentice flicked
an eye over the fight, then moved forward.

"Master, I'll go left. You can hit from behind once they see me charge."

Recca looked at the fight and sheathed his blade. "No."

His apprentice stared, his eyes searching Recca for an answer, unable to comprehend. "Why?"

Honor.' Men like Recca and his marauding rangers could not afford the luxury of honor. Survival was a
practical art, and only survivors returned to fight and kill and win. Recca raked his apprentice with a
glance that despaired of the humans petty intellect.